


it all goes to you

by spells



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Canon Compliant, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hugging, Kissing, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Touch, Touching, cafuné, different types of touching, hand-holding, in order:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spells/pseuds/spells
Summary: Akaashi runs his hand through Bokuto's hair, hugs him tight. Akaashi holds Bokuto's hand, kisses him, lies in bed and snuggles him.Here's the ways in which they touch.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	it all goes to you

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired from nct 127's touch! enjoy!

No matter how much Akaashi tries to get Bokuto involved with school, how much he likes to make him associate studying with good things – with hanging out together, with the feeling of accomplishment when you do good on an exam, with banter back and forth, with the nice snacks that Akaashi always has at home –, Bokuto isn’t convinced.

They go to Bokuto’s to study, and Akaashi takes to reading and highlighting his textbook while Bokuto runs through trig exercises on his desk. Not even half an hour goes by, and he’s sliding back and forth on his desk chair, tapping pop song rhythms on his notebook with his pen, clearly scribbling on the edges of his notebook instead of actually studying.

Akaashi notices. Akaashi watches him for five whole minutes, and notices he didn’t get anything done.

“Bokuto-san…”

When Bokuto turns around, he’s already got the guilty look on his face, the puppy dog eyes, the slump and embarrassment of a kid with his hand inside the cookie jar. “Akaashi… I’m tired, I don’t like math.”

“You still have to do the exercises, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi sighs, sitting up and putting the cap back on his highlighter.

“Come on, it’s just… I already had trig today, at school! Already filled my quota of annoying circle numbers for the day! I’m not gaining a single thing from this.”

Akaashi takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, runs a hand through his hair. He knows how Bokuto works, he’s composed the manual to dealing with him. He knows there’s still space to push, but sometimes, some times like now, he doesn’t want to. As much as he knows all that Bokuto can do, knows how hard he can push and how productive he can get, he also gets empathetic, feels sorry. Knows that Bokuto’s not a machine, knows that even machines can’t work at full power all the time without breaking.

Akaashi sets aside his textbook, “C’mere.”

Bokuto jumps from his chair, flops onto the bed next to Akaashi. It’s such a sudden change of mood, but it doesn’t surprise him; it’s amusing. Akaashi smiles, and Bokuto sets his head in his lap.

“M’tired,” Bokuto says, rolling so he’s lying on his back, his face looking up at Akaashi from his lap. Akaashi reaches for his hair, and runs his hand through it once, twice. Starts undoing the little dollops of gel keeping it in place, starts smoothening it and twisting it between his fingers.

“I know,” Akaashi says. He rubs Bokuto’s scalp, runs his hand up the back of his head and feels the shorter hairs sticking up and falling back to place.

“That’s nice,” Bokuto says, leaning into the touch, his head fitting into the shape of Akaashi’s palm. Akaashi caresses Bokuto’s cheekbone with his thumb, follows the shape of his eyebrows with his index finger, boops his nose, feels the softness of his lips.

As Akaashi sets his finger on Bokuto’s lips, Bokuto opens his mouth and bites it; Akaashi laughs, “Ow!”, and Bokuto laughs, too.

“Getting naughty, now, are we?” Bokuto raises an eyebrow, winks. Akaashi rolls his eyes and leans back onto Bokuto’s bed frame, picking his textbook back up. He keeps one hand on Bokuto’s head, drawing swirls and mindless shapes on his scalp with the tips of his fingers, and holds the textbook with the other, reading absent-mindedly, not paying much attention to either activity.

Doesn’t take too long before both of them are asleep.

Akaashi dreams that they win Nationals.

Akaashi dreams that they win some sort of twisted, fantasy Nationals; he doesn’t recognise the players on the other side of the court, but some of them have wings, some of them have horns, some of them have beaks – most of them have more than one of those. Still, they win the game, Bokuto slamming spike after spike, never getting dejected even when his plays fail or the opponents score.

The referee blows the whistle, and Bokuto turns to look at Akaashi, like he always does. He’s smiling like he always does, his eyes almost closed, his cheeks straining. He runs towards Akaashi and hugs him, reaches for his waist and picks him up, his arms tight but not squeezing. Akaashi wraps his arms around Bokuto’s neck and laughs, joy emanating from him like light, like sound, like electromagnetic waves.

“We did it,” he whispers, breathless from the game and his words shapeless from his smiles. He can’t believe it, there’s no way.

“Damn right we did,” Bokuto whispers back, and kisses a spot in Akaashi’s jaw. Then, he sputters, “Ew, sweat,” but doesn’t stop smiling.

“Silly,” Akaashi says, and kisses him.

Akaashi wakes up.

A part of his heart, a part of his head, thinks he should be sad. Because that’s not real, because that’s the worst type of dream, the really good one that you know you won’t be able to reach. Instead, he drapes his arm on top of his eyes and smiles, because all of that felt good, because the happiness he had in-dream is spreading through his chest, tingling in his shoulders and down his arms.

In the morning, he walks up to Bokuto, who’s sitting down outside, and hugs him from behind, drapes his arms over his shoulders. Bokuto lifts his head, looks back at who it is. Smiles, shifts back into the touch.

“‘Morning.”

“Dreamt of you,” Akaashi says, letting go of the hug and moving to sit beside him.

“Mm, yeah? Tell me more.”

“We won Nationals.”

Bokuto laughs, that laugh with his whole chest, like he empties his lungs with it, like his diaphragm does all the work. He nudges Akaashi, gets him to smile, gets him to believe it as much as he does. “Well, lucky for you, dreams come true!”

They go to this party, at Kuroo’s place, and Akaashi doesn’t really know anyone there. He talks to Kenma for a bit, to Yaku and Fukunaga, but they have their own friends there, they’re not Akaashi’s friends to begin with. After a while, he tends to gravitate a bit around Bokuto, watches him arm-wrestle with Yamamoto, compete with Kuroo on who can eat the most Oreos in one minute. (What does happen is that they run out of Oreos to stuff in their mouths before the timer runs out, so they declare it a friendly tie.)

Akaashi goes sit in a corner, because he’s tired, and he doesn’t have anyone else to be around. Bokuto joins him after a little bit.

“You okay?” He asks, sitting down next to him.

“Just a little tired.”

“If you wanna go home, let me know, I’ll go with you, okay?”

Akaashi shakes his head, smiles, in reassurance. “It’s fine. Not gonna ruin your fun.”

“Akaashi…” Bokuto takes his hand, tangles their fingers slowly. He rubs his thumb back and forth on the back of Akaashi’s hand, and Akaashi leans and lets his hair fall on Bokuto’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, and feels his own breathing, slow, full. “Wouldn’t be having any fun without you here,” Bokuto whispers, just loud enough for Akaashi to hear. The nearest people are more than ten feet away, so even if Bokuto had said it out loud, no one else would’ve listened. Still, it doesn’t feel useless. It isn’t useless; Akaashi folds his legs, puts his knees on top of Bokuto’s thigh. Bokuto holds his hand up, and takes it close to his chest, kisses Akaashi’s knuckles, one by one.

“Okay,” Akaashi says, slurs, his words already thick. He won’t fall asleep, he’s had a can of Red Bull that he feels pulsating in his capillaries, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling so otherworldly comfortable… “I’ll tell you.”

“Promise?”

Akaashi turns his head, nudges Bokuto’s neck with his nose. Kisses his shoulder. “M-hm.”

Here’s the thing about kissing Bokuto.

Bokuto has his moods, alright. In game, and outside of them, Bokuto has mood swings, Bokuto is all about extremes – so happy that he shines like the sun, so angry that he could burst a vein, so sad he’d dig himself his own grave. Akaashi knows this, already knew this before they got together. He’d learned how to deal with them, when to just snap him out of it, when to be empathetic and be happy, or sad, or angry along with him, when to support him or try to make him feel better.

He didn’t expect Bokuto’s moods to make him different, in every aspect. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really.

Maybe what surprises him isn’t that Bokuto’s different, kisses him differently, depending on what mood he’s in. Maybe what surprises him is how many different kisses Bokuto can give him, how much he changes, how many possibilities he has as his mood fluctuates.

Ecstatic Bokuto kisses him without holding back, kisses him with a smile, teeth clashing and noses bumping. Ecstatic Bokuto kisses him laughing, kisses him because he loves to do it, kisses him with pleasure. He puts his hands on Akaashi’s waist and holds him tight, pushes the tips of his fingers underneath the fabric of his shirt, feels the softness of his skin and squeezes to make Akaashi shiver.

Happy Bokuto, middle-ground Bokuto, kisses him with a closed mouth, tight lips. Happy Bokuto is a side of him Akaashi hadn’t noticed before; happy Bokuto won’t overindulge, but is far from sad or gloomy. Happy Bokuto is in-between moods, sometimes, or just there when not much is going on. Happy Bokuto likes cupping Akaashi’s jaw, holding his face in place, likes peppering his skin with kisses, not just his mouth. Likes the spots where Akaashi’s ticklish. Likes the way his fingers tremble when he’s holding in laughter.

Akaashi doesn’t kiss Bokuto when he’s angry. When he’s really angry, Akaashi talks him out of it. Akaashi walks close, and looks him in the eye, and tells him he’s being unreasonable. Holds his fists until they give in, until they’re holding hands and Bokuto starts breathing in deeply, shoulders unwinding, dropping slowly.

The moment Bokuto stops being forceful, being furious, and turns into something more like fierce-ful, he kisses Akaashi in a way that is simultaneously bruising and healing. It doesn’t actually bruise; he just pushes forward, keeps searching, pushes and pushes and pushes as long as Akaashi lets him, even if Akaashi pushes back. If Akaashi isn’t feeling it, if he tells him to stop, he pulls back immediately, takes a step back, swallows, looks down to the ground with ragged breathing. But if Akaashi raises his hand to the back of Bokuto’s neck, if Akaashi pulls him closer-

When Bokuto’s sad, Akaashi kisses him, and never the other way around. When Bokuto’s sad, Akaashi reaches for him, tries to reach him. Akaashi pushes his cheeks together, holds his jaw, and kisses him with little pecks until he kisses back. Kisses the tip of his nose, kisses his temple, the little spots beneath, beside, and behind his ear. Kisses the mole he has at the base of his neck, kisses the eyelash that’s fallen to his cheek. If he’s crying, Akaashi kisses the tear away, kisses up the tear tracks, kisses Bokuto’s eyelids, kisses his eyebrow bone.

Dejected Bokuto tends to not last long if Akaashi kisses him. That makes him think, if Akaashi could kiss him on court, maybe they’d be unstoppable. If Akaashi could kiss him on court, actually, maybe they’d suck; Bokuto would keep on getting dejected, just to get a kiss. (He already does that sometimes. Akaashi keeps telling himself to stop spoiling him, but sometimes he just can’t help it.) When Bokuto’s feeling down, when he’s dejected, Akaashi kisses him once, twice, three times. Before too long, he’s giving Akaashi these soft, slow kisses, these loving kisses, that don’t seem sad at all, just calm, just patient.

Akaashi loves them all. Akaashi would kiss Bokuto all day, every day, if he could.

Bokuto’s body is really warm. He doesn’t really know why, but he is; Akaashi really likes it. In the winter, Akaashi gravitates towards him, spends his time even closer to Bokuto than he would normally be.

In the winter, Bokuto’s parents go on holiday to an inn in the countryside because it’s their anniversary, and his mom got a voucher for an onsen inn. Bokuto invites Akaashi to stay over the whole weekend, and how could Akaashi say no? He pulls on a hoodie, puts on a coat on top of that, puts on gloves, and takes the subway to Bokuto’s house.

“Hi!” Bokuto smiles when he gets there, takes a step to the side and lets Akaashi come inside. Slowly, he takes off his coats and his shoes, the apartment heating already such a nice change from outside. Before they walk inside, though, Akaashi takes a step forward, his arms close to his chest, hands tucked underneath his chin, and sinks his face into the crook of Bokuto’s neck. Bokuto laughs, hugs him, holds him tight. Akaashi’s mind’s racing, he’s so warm, he smells so good, his shirt’s so soft. He closes his eyes, and feels like this just might end up being the best weekend of his whole life.

They take to watching a movie on the couch; Akaashi nearly lies on top of Bokuto, he’s so close. Eventually, they both turn so that they’re lying on their sides instead of on their backs, Akaashi’s back to Bokuto’s chest, and Akaashi falls asleep from the warmth emanating from him, falls asleep under the pressure of his arm, falls asleep inside the softness of his cuddle.

When he wakes up, he notices the room’s gone darker. When he wakes up, he is lying on top of Bokuto, after all, snoring on top of his chest, hips slotted right in between his legs. He yawns, and Bokuto kisses his temple.

“‘Morning, sunshine.”

“What time is it?” Akaashi mumbles, his lips swollen, his head heavy. He has no idea how long he napped for and, more importantly, how in hell he’s going to sleep tonight.

“I don’t know, five? Six?”

“Why did you let me sleep this long,” Akaashi whines into the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt, then rests his chin on his chest, grumpy. Bokuto uses his thumb to smoothen the crease between his eyebrows, and Akaashi thinks his heart hurts.

“How was I supposed to wake you up? You were too pretty. Too peaceful. I thought you were tired.”

“I…” Akaashi pouts, and closes his eyes again. “I guess I was.”

“See? Then it was for the better. I bet you would’ve wanted to study if I’d woken you up.”

Akaashi smiles, his eyes still closed. “Hmm. Maybe we should.”

“No way,” Bokuto laughs, and wriggles underneath him so Akaashi loses his balance. Akaashi holds onto the back of the couch and opens his eyes, playfully angry. “No school talk allowed in this household.”

“Bokuto-”

Bokuto shushes him with a kiss. Akaashi doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so much for reading! leaving a kudo, a comment or a bookmark (or coming to yell at me on twitter @kenhinabot) will quite literally obliterate my heart. but i will walk out of it stronger. thanks!


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